These Hearts of Ours
by MyImmortal329
Summary: After the prison falls, Daryl finds himself responsible for three young lives, and he also quickly realizes that he is going to have to face emotions he's pushed back his entire life. Caryl.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing from The Walking Dead.

Prompted by carylwarrior on Tumblr.

These Hearts of Ours

Chapter 1

"Maybe we'll get to the other side of the woods, and everybody will be there."

"That's stupid. Everybody's dead. Or running. Just like us."

"But they could be! They could have gotten out, and they could be waiting on the other side of the woods to see if anybody else gets out."

"If they're still alive, they won't be for long."

"You think we'll die, too?"

"Everybody dies. And then they come back. Who knows what happens after that?" Lizzie Samuels looked down at her little sister and shrugged her shoulders. "That's just the way it is."

"Well, I don't like it," Mika replied with a huff. "And not everybody's dead. We're still here." She sighed heavily and shrugged. "I miss Carol."

"Carol's probably dead. Like dad. We only have each other now." The crunch of footsteps up ahead stopped, and Lizzie flinched, nearly smacking right into a pair of angel wings on the back of a black vest. "Do you see something?"

"You ever stop talkin'?" Daryl Dixon grumbled, turning and hoisting baby Judith up a little bit. For such a little thing, she sure got heavy after a few miles. Mika tugged on Lizzie's shirt sleeve, when Daryl turned back around.

"What?" Lizzie hissed at her sister.

"Don't make him mad. He's all we've got." Lizzie shrugged off her sister and moved to walk beside Daryl. Mika sighed and moved her legs a little faster to keep up.

"Is it 'cause Beth's dead? That's why you're sad?" Daryl said nothing. "That wasn't your fault. She shouldn't have run back toward the cell block. That was dumb."

"Just. Stop. Talkin'." Daryl's voice was low and gruff, and if the girls hadn't known him and seen what a good guy he was since they'd arrived at the prison, they might have been slightly frightened.

"Want me to carry Judith for a while?"

"I got her. You two keep up." Daryl grunted, shifting the baby to his hip. Judith fussed slightly, and he bounced her as he walked, calming her down a little.

"Maybe she's hungry." Mika offered. "Or maybe she needs a new diaper."

"She'll let us know when she's hungry," Daryl said with a nod.

"I'm tired," Lizzie sighed. "Can we stop?"

"Ain't safe here. Walkers on the other side of that ridge. We're fish in a barrel here." Daryl nodded his head forward, indicating that they needed to keep going. Lizzie sighed and shrugged her shoulders, shifting her bag to her other shoulder and absently brushing her ponytail off of her shoulder.

"I'm hungry," Mika chimed in. Daryl sighed heavily.

"Why can't we go up toward the road? There could be a car," Lizzie offered.

"Road's just as dangerous. Least out here, we got some cover." Judith fussed then, and Daryl knew it wouldn't be long before they had no choice but to stop for the night. "Just a little longer. We'll find a place. Maybe a cabin. Just keep walkin', girls."

And they did. They followed him through dirt paths and around large trees and over mud puddles and big boulders. Mika chimed in that it reminded her of hiking with their parents, chattering on and on in a way that made Daryl wonder if she had an off switch. Still, it was nice to have some sort of noise, some sort of normal in all of the chaos. Everybody was either dying or dead. Lizzie was right. And if they weren't, they were gone, and they'd probably never see them again. He'd been angry that Rick had banished Carol, but there'd been no time for arguments. And now that they were out here in the middle of nowhere, he was actually thankful that Carol hadn't been there for the end. She hadn't seen Hershel get his neck split open, hadn't seen all of those people riddled with bullets or just blown to hell. She was somewhere else, and he hoped she was safe.

They walked about an hour longer, until the roof of a small house came into sight. He stopped in his tracks, hoisting the baby up on his hip a little further.

"What is it?" Lizzie asked, staring off in the direction Daryl pointed.

"I don't see anything," Mika muttered.

"You're too short. I see it," Lizzie beamed. "A house! Come on, Mika!" Lizzie took off running, and Mika hurried after her.

"Hey! Slow down!" Daryl hissed, keeping his voice low but urgent. The girls didn't listen. He sighed heavily, holding the baby close as he took off after them toward the house.

It wasn't much more than a shack. Probably an old hunting cabin. But it would do for shelter for a night or two. There was a pipe coming out of the roof, which meant that there was at least a stove. Daryl figured if he could manage to get a few squirrels, they'd have enough food to last a day or two.

"Stop!" he hissed, as Mika reached for the doorknob. She jumped, looking back at him with wide, innocent eyes. "Stop. Just…hold the kid." He handed Judith down to Mika, who struggled to hold onto the wriggling, fussy child. "You stay here. Lizzie? You got this?"

"Yeah," Lizzie said pointedly, tucking her shirt behind her knife. She grabbed her gun and held it steady at her side. Poised. Daryl eyed her, and she looked at him. "Carol taught me." He nodded then, swallowing back the pain he felt at hearing her name.

"Ok. Just wait. I'll come out when it's safe." He brought his crossbow off of his shoulder, placing his finger on the trigger. Reaching for the doorknob, he slowly let the door creak open, peeking his head inside to examine the dark room. He banged on the threshold heavily with his foot, looking around for any sign of a walker. Grabbing his flashlight, he held it between his teeth, giving himself a better view of the cabin inside.

The door shut behind him, and he quickly checked the windows and the back door for security. There was a small room off to the back that held a bed, big enough for the girls to share. There was a beat up old sofa against one wall of the bigger room and a small table next to the stove. There was a jug of water, store bought and still sealed, which at least meant they would have something to drink and make Judith's bottles with, even if they didn't have any food for themselves. It would have to do.

He put his crossbow down and made his way about the place, finding a couple of old lanterns with oil still in them. He searched for a pack of matches, finding luck with a half-used pack. He quickly lit the lamps, brightening the place just slightly. Then he headed outside for the girls.

They were huddled together, Lizzie watching one direction, Mika watching the other.

"C'mon. Get inside. This'll do for tonight." The girls quickly made their way in, and Lizzie deposited Judith on the sofa.

"What is this place?"

"It's four walls and a roof," Daryl offered with a shrug. "Bed in the back room. You girls can have that. You watch Asskicker for a bit, and I'll try and get us some food."

"You're leaving?" Mika asked, alarm raising in her voice.

"Ain't goin' far. You two don't leave the cabin for nothin', you hear me?" Lizzie nodded, swallowing hard.

"I'll keep watch," she promised. "It's ok, Mika. He'll come back."

"Or he'll die, like you said." Mika sat down on the sofa next to Judith, and Daryl looked to the older girl. He had no time to reassure or coddle the child. Hell, he didn't even know if he knew how to do such a thing. All he knew was that if they didn't eat, they'd be weak within days and far too vulnerable to being caught by a walker should they come upon one.

"I ain't gonna die," Daryl muttered. "Just sit tight. Don't make a sound. I'll be back soon as I can." With that, he grabbed his crossbow and headed out of the cabin, shutting the door quietly behind himself. He stood outside of the cabin, listening to the rustling of the leaves, the whistling of the wind, an offering of a storm that he hoped would pass them by. With a deep breath, he started off into the thicker woods, hoping he wouldn't come back empty handed.

...

Daryl had backtracked. About a half hour away from the house, he'd spotted some trees peppered with squirrel dreys, a perfect location for hunting. So, he settled down, leaning back against a tree, taking stock of the area, watching as squirrels darted from limb to limb high in the treetops. He took a few breaths, steadying his bow when a squirrel came scurrying across the path between him and another tree.

His finger pressed the trigger, and the bolt flew, striking the squirrel right through the belly. It fell over, dead, and Daryl didn't move. He waited. There would be more, and he wasn't about to scare off his chance of supper just yet.

He waited. Three more squirrels came along in about ten minute increments. He'd wait for a few more. But, just as he was eyeing the next squirrel to start making its way down the large tree trunk, he heard the snap of a twig, sending the critter scurrying back up the tree and out of sight. Daryl silently cursed under his breath, standing, loading another bolt into his crossbow. He stepped around the tree, keeping his back pressed against it. Another twig. The rustle of leaves. _Fuck!_

The dragging steps grew closer, and Daryl chewed the inside of his cheek, making a last moment decision to put his crossbow down and reach for his knife. He didn't want to take a chance of losing the bolt and giving the walker the advantage.

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a heavy breath as he heard the scrape of fingers against bark. Pulling his buck knife out of his back pocket, he opened his eyes, turned and lunged, hearing a gasp as fingers closed around his wrist, and he came face to face with _her_. Blue eyes blinked at him in shock, as her mouth fell open, and tears pooled in her eyes.

"Daryl?" she panted, fingers loosening around his wrist, as he let go of the knife, letting it fall into the dirt. He was frozen there, taken over by the sight of her, uncertain if perhaps he'd actually died back at the prison and was now in his version of heaven where she was there and everything was good again. Her chest heaved as she fought for breath, and he bridged the gap between them, pulling his arms around her, burying his face against her neck as he choked back the urge to cry. Carol was here. Carol was alive.

Her hands gripped his back, as he pulled her in closer, lifting her slightly off the ground, unwilling to let go of her, wanting to make sure she wouldn't disappear if he did. He looked up at her then, unable to fight the way his lip trembled or his eyes misted over. He saw her smile then, and she brought her hand to his face before he put his head back down against her shoulder.

But the reunion was short lived, as he felt something warm and wet against his forehead. She was groaning in pain, and he pulled back, wiping at his forehead. His fingers came back red.

"What happened?" he panted, wiping his hand on his pants before he moved to gently examine her shoulder.

"I was at the prison," she admitted. "I saw…God, I saw the end, and everyone was running. I…I got hit by a stray bullet. It went through. Clean. I bandaged it, but it's…it needs stitches."

"Jesus," he murmured, gently pulling back the fabric of her jacket to assess the wound. "Come on."

"What?"

"There's a place."

"Daryl? Where are they? Where are the rest of them?"

"Come on," he murmured gravely. "I ain't worried 'bout that right now. Let's just get you somewhere safe." He pulled his buck knife out of the ground and pocketed it, slung his crossbow over his shoulders and proceeded to toss the dead squirrels into a burlap sack. Then, he moved to Carol's side, bringing his arm around her to keep her steady as they walked. No way in hell would he let her fall. No way in hell was he ever letting go of her again.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Carol's body sagged against his a little as they walked, and he tightened his arm around her middle.

"We gotta stop."

"How much further?" Carol asked.

"Bout fifteen minutes," Daryl offered.

"They let's keep going. I'm fine."

"You ain't fine. You got shot. You gotta stop." He stopped then, turning to face her, gently sliding his hand against her cheek, examining her pale face and her tired eyes. "You got any water?"

"A bottle in my pack," she said with a nod.

"Alright. C'mere." He led her over to sit down on a large tree stump, and he eased her pack off of her good shoulder. He rifled through it and found a full bottle of water. Popping the cap off, he handed it to her. "Take a drink."

"I'm fine," she insisted.

"So you're fine. Take a drink anyway," he replied. Carol sighed and took a few small gulps. She handed the water bottle back to him, and he put the cap back on, stuffing it back in her bag. "What else you got in here?" He rummaged through it. "Sewing kit. Good call. Got any antibiotics?"

"I think in the side there. Something Rick and I found before…" She winced in pain, and Daryl knelt in front of her.

"Look at me." Carol tried to focus on him. He moved his hand to her forehead. "You lost a lot of blood. You're burnin' up." He searched through the bag until he found the bottle of expired antibiotics. "Six months past their date."

"Well, it's got to be better than nothing, right?" she offered. He nodded, handing her a dose. She swallowed it down, and he gave her another drink of water.

"I get you back, I'll get that patched up. You'll be alright."

"Maybe," she said quietly.

"Hey," he said quickly, "you're gonna be fine." He looked around, hearing a twig snap in the distant trees, as a bird squawked, ruffling the leaves as it took off in surprise. "Walkers are close by. You alright to keep goin'?"

"Yeah," she said softly. "I'll be ok." He helped her up then, pulling his arm around her waist again. "Let me know if ya gotta stop. Don't push yourself."

"I think I can make it."

"You gotta make it. Three little girls waitin' on me who are gonna be happy to see you."

"What?" Carol asked, eyes going wide.

"Got Lizzie, Mika and Lil' Asskicker back at this cabin. They're waitin' on me. Sure as hell gonna be glad to see you, I can tell ya that."

"They're ok?" Carol asked, voice shaking as she thought back to Rick telling her the group would look after the girls and make sure they were ok. She felt an ache in her chest and swallowed back the upset. She took a deep breath, and the tears faded.

"They're good. Doin' ok."

"Did you see…anybody?"

"I know Beth's dead. Everybody else? Who knows," he murmured.

"Daryl, you know Rick…he…"

"I know what he did," Daryl said, grunting as he picked up the slack, holding her up as her knees buckled. "And I ain't Rick. I know what ya did, and I know ya had your reasons." Carol squeezed her eyes shut, feeling as if the world was spinning. "Carol?"

"Daryl," she moaned, bringing her hand to her forehead. "I can't…I'm so…" Her body went limp then, and he caught her just before she hit the ground. He slung her pack over his other shoulder and hoisted her up in his arms, cradling her as he had that day he'd found her in solitary.

"S'gonna be ok. Gonna get you back safe, I promise."

...

"Lizzie, what are you doing?" Mika asked, running her hand gently over a sleeping baby Judith's hair.

"I'll be right back," Lizzie said with a shrug, heading toward the door.

"Daryl said to stay inside," Mika insisted.

"I'm a good shot. I can take care of myself."

"Lizzie!" Mika hissed, as Lizzie opened the door and hurried out, shutting it behind her. Mika sighed and moved toward the window, peeking out to see Lizzie creeping around the grounds, keeping an eye out, gun shaking in her hand. With a sigh, Mika moved to the back room and looked around, finding one of the bureau drawers to be empty. She removed it and took it into the front room, placing a blanket down inside to soften the hard, wood surface. Then she took Judith off of the couch and placed her down inside, being careful not to jostle her too much.

"Don't worry, Judith. I'll be _right_ back." She reached for her knife, holding it firmly in her hand as she headed out the door, finding herself alone. "Lizzie?" Mika held her breath, listening for her older sister. "Lizzie! Where are you?" Somewhere close by, a twig snapped, and Mika gasped for breath, turning, clutching her knife in her hand, feeling every bad feeling she'd ever felt in her short life tearing through her veins. Every monster in the closet, every scary movie, every bad dream. She'd gladly take those nights she'd stayed up late against her parents' knowledge to watch a scary movie, because Lizzie watched them, too. Anything was better than this. "Lizzie! It's not funny! Come out, now!"

A laugh. She heard a laugh.

"Lizzie?!" She started toward the sound, looking over her shoulder once to make certain the cabin door was shut. When she was certain, she turned and headed back toward the sound. "Lizzie!" She cleared the area of the cabin, coming to a little dirt path that led down between some narrowly rowed trees. It was then that she saw it. A picket fence. On that pretty picket fence was a walker impaled upon it, red and brown streaks lining the post and dripping into the soil below. Lizzie stood close by, reaching toward it. "Lizzie!" Lizzie spun on her heels.

"Mika!"

"What are you doing? He'll kill you!" Mika raised her gun then, and Lizzie stepped in front of the walker.

"Stop! He's not hurting anybody."

"Yeah, because he can't," Mika protested, licking her lips and peering around Lizzie. "He's stuck. We have to kill it."

"No!" Lizzie begged. "He's not hurting anybody. Just…don't kill him!"

"He's bad, Lizzie! He'll kill you if he gets loose. Move!" Mika cocked the gun, and Lizzie moved toward her, stepping close until she felt the barrel of Mika's gun against her belly. "Lizzie, stop!"

"You stop," Lizzie warned, eyes going cold. "He's not hurting anybody. The only person wanting to hurt somebody is you."

"Stop it," Mika whimpered, finger trembling against the trigger. "Stop it, Lizzie! Remember Dad? Remember how he died? 'Cause he got bit by one of those things!" The tears flooded Mika's eyes then, and she lowered her gun. "You don't understand." She shook her head. "You don't understand. But I do. They're bad. Carol taught us they're bad."

"You don't understand _them_. You can't hear them. But _I_ can."

"No you can't!"

"Would you shoot a dog just because it barked at you? Or a cat?"

"No, because they're animals. They can't help it."

"Neither can they," Lizzie insisted, gesturing toward the walker. "It's not their fault." Mika shook her head, and Lizzie stepped out of the way. "If you kill him, I'll never forgive you, Mika. Never." Mika's lower lip trembled as she looked from her sister to the walker and then back to her sister. These things were bad. They were wrong. That's what Carol had told her. And she knew Lizzie was messed up. But she lowered her gun. Her sister was asking this of her. This was important to her. And she knew that if he didn't do as Lizzie asked, bad things would happen. They always did before.

"Come on, Lizzie," Mika urged. "Let's get back to Judith. Daryl might be home soon, and we don't want him to catch us out here." She reached for her sister's hand. Lizzie struggled for breath and looked to the walker and then back to Mika.

"Do you understand?" Lizzie asked quietly, head ducked low as she wrapped her arms around herself.

"I understand," Mika lied. "Come on. Let's go back." Chewing her lip, Lizzie took one last look at the snarling walker that was reaching toward her and started back toward the cabin. Mika turned, hand gripping her knife, knowing she could end it all right now, but she couldn't do that to Lizzie. Not when she was like this. With a reluctant sigh, she turned and followed her sister back toward the cabin, as the walker continued to snarl and gnash its teeth and claw at the white picket fence post stuck through its belly.

...

"Carol?!"

"Carol!"

"Is she dead?"

"Is she ok?"

"Move! Outta the way," Daryl grunted, pushing past the frantic girls as he carried Carol's limp body back toward the bedroom. He placed her down on the bed and dumped her pack out on the bed.

"What can we do?" Lizzie asked, moving to stand on the other side of the bed.

"I need ya to get me somethin'. A cloth. Somethin' we can use to put pressure on the wound." Lizzie immediately started opening the bureau drawers, pulling out an old plaid shirt.

"Like this?"

"Good," Daryl said with a nod, slipping Carol's jacket off of her arms before ripping her shirt up by the shoulder so he could get to the wound. He took off the bandage that Carol had made for it and grabbed the water bottle as blood dripped from his fingers. He winced as he flooded the wound with what was left in the water bottle."

"Is she gonna be ok?" Mika asked, tears in her eyes as she gripped the footboard of the bed.

"Lizzie, get yer little sister outta here," Daryl ordered. "Now! And I need ya to look 'round the cabinets and see if there's any whiskey or vodka. Somethin' with alcohol. We gotta clean the wound." Lizzie remained calm, ushering her sister out of the room. Baby Judith was crying now, and the clatter Lizzie was making as she searched for what he asked for echoed loudly in his head.

Daryl wiped his hands on his pants, noticing how dirty they were. When Lizzie returned with a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels, he held his hands out to her.

"Pour some on my hands." Lizzie did as he asked, and he rubbed his hands together before taking the bottle from her. "Now go out there with Mika and don't come back in."

"She'll make it. She will," Lizzie said hopefully, nodding her head. "Carol's strong. She'll be ok." With that, Lizzie turned and left the room, shutting the door behind her. Daryl turned his gaze back on Carol's pale face.

"You're gonna be ok," he promised. "I've got ya now." He grabbed the shirt Lizzie had found and quickly began ripping it into strips. He lay them out on the comforter and picked up the sewing kit. He struggled to thread the needle, because his hands were shaking like crazy as the anxiety pulsed through him. But, he finally got it through, and he settled in, first pouring a little of the Jack on the entrance wound before pulling her onto her side and pouring some along the exit wound. She groaned, shifting slightly.

"No…" she moaned. "Please…"

"You gotta hold still," Daryl murmured, rolling her back so he could begin to suture her wound. "You gotta hold still. You can do this. I got ya." Daryl winced as he began to sew her up, and she whimpered in her sleep, head moving slightly as she struggled to wake up. "Hold on. Just hold on." He got the front sutured quickly, flipped her onto her side and began to work at the back.

"Daryl," she cried out, coming into full consciousness, clutching the bed sheets between her fingers. "It hurts."

"I know. Almost done. It's gonna be ok." She muffled her cries of pain against the pillow, and Daryl winced every time, hating that he was causing her so much pain. But when it was over, he quickly bandaged her up and rolled her off of her side and onto her back. She had tears in her eyes now, but her breathing was returning to normal. "It's done. You're ok?"

"I'm ok," she choked out. "The girls? Did they see me like this?"

"They're scared, but they're ok. You want me to get 'em?"

"Yes, please," Carol murmured. Daryl moved to get up and clean off his bloody hands, but Carol reached out, gripping his hand in hers. "Wait." Daryl knelt back down by the bed, eyes focused on hers as she reached up with her free hand and stroked his forehead that was beaded with sweat. She ran her fingers through his hair and gave him a little smile. "Look at you saving my life again. We're back to that, huh?" Daryl smirked then and ran his thumb over her knuckles. "Thank you." He nodded then, suddenly feeling the overwhelming urge to kiss her, and what was more than that, the way she was looking at him, he thought maybe she _wanted_ him to. But a clatter in the next room had him shaking his head and clearing his throat, a bit of pink flushing at his cheeks as he scolded himself for almost embarrassing himself. He stood quickly, letting go of her hand, seeing the twinkle of part amusement, part disappointment in her eyes.

"Be right back. Let me get the girls."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"That was good," Carol said quietly, handing Daryl her plate.

"You don't gotta lie," he snorted.

"No, really. It wasn't that bad," she promised, watching as he set the plates off to the side to deal with later. "It was better than stale potato chips and questionable jerky." Daryl saw the smile creep up on her lips before she closed her eyes, leaned her head back and winced in pain.

"Here. Swallow these," Daryl said quietly, handing her the water jug and a couple of pills. "Your fever's breakin', but just to be on the safe side, you should take 'em for a few days." Carol nodded, doing as Daryl had told her, and when she passed the water jug back to him, she sighed.

"I killed two people."

"I know."

"And you're just…ok with it?"

"I told you," he said quietly. "I know ya had your reasons."

"And you…you just accept it?" She blinked then, as if trying to process this. She'd expected Rick to be angry, but she hadn't expected him to just leave her on her own, tell her he wouldn't have her around his kids, tell her that the group wouldn't want her there. And as she'd driven away that day, a part of her had believed it. The group followed Rick, and they always would, and his decision was what counted, even if he'd given up making decisions for everybody. He'd made the choice for himself, and she'd had to accept that. She'd killed two people, and there was no bringing them back.

"They were dyin'," he said quietly. "Wouldn't have made it 'til we got back with the medicine. Woulda died. Might've made others sick. I get it." He watched as she took a deep breath and leaned her head back.

"They might have lived," she said quietly. "Maybe they would have. Maybe I wasn't thinking."

"You were thinkin'," he said quietly. "We've put folks down for bein' bit, 'cause they asked us. This wasn't no different. They were gonna die. Patrick died, and a whole cell block was wiped out. You stepped up."

"And now they're all dead anyway," Carol murmured. "Or they could be." She looked down at her hands folded neatly in her lap. "They could still be out there."

"If they are, they could be anywhere," Daryl said quietly. "Can't risk runnin' into a herd tryin' to find 'em. Soon as you're better, we're gonna find a car. You had a car?"

"I did," she said with a nod. "But when I saw the smoke and went back to the prison…it was surrounded. It's not an option."

"A'right," he murmured, chewing the inside of his lip. "We'll figure somethin' out. Gonna get you and them girls someplace safe."

"You don't have to take care of me," Carol pointed out quietly.

"I know," he murmured, looking away when he felt his cheeks burning. "I shoulda come after you. The second Rick told me, I shoulda…"

"Don't blame yourself for that. You did what you had to do. I made a choice with Karen and David, and I accepted the consequences. That wasn't on you."

"He took you out there, left you by yourself, 'cause he knew if I was there, I never woulda let him do it. M'sorry I wasn't there." Carol swallowed hard then, trying to put together the pieces of what he'd just said. "He was wrong." Carol felt the tears stinging her eyes then, and she blinked them back. "What happened, happened. Ain't no fixin' it. Ain't nobody's hands clean. We've all done things we ain't proud of, but that's life now. You gotta fight to live, or you die. You keep livin'. That's all there is now."

Her hand moved then, moving over his, and she gently curled her fingers with his. His gaze fixed on hers, and she gave him a sad little smile.

"When I was driving away," she said quietly, "all I could think about was how _you_ saw me. How you knew me. Even back at the quarry. You saw what I needed when Ed died. You stepped back and handed that ax over, and you let me have what I needed. I had this gnawing, nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach that maybe you would think…and that I couldn't explain…" Her voice broke then, and Daryl gave her fingers a squeeze.

"Hey," he murmured, "I ain't goin' nowhere." He scooted closer to her on the bed, bringing his hand to her cheek, brushing his thumb over the arch of her cheek. "We all changed in that prison. This world changes you. But I still see you." Carol gasped softly, placing her hand over his, and it was then that he something change in her eyes. Every moment, every missed opportunity where he'd wanted to say something or even do something and he'd lost the nerve, thought that she couldn't possibly want the same thing, every thought he'd bit back out of fear of it coming out wrong was reeling through his head. And he couldn't miss another moment. He couldn't. He'd almost lost her.

Everything Merle had ever ragged on him about and made him feel like next to nothing, every horrible, awful attempt at a relationship in his life, and every sweat-inducing fear of rejection he'd had his whole life weighed against this decision, but he couldn't stop himself. He couldn't. And it scared the hell out of him.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was pressing his mouth against hers, and she was sighing against his mouth, curling her fingers into his hair, and it was everything. It was everything he'd ever imagined it could be but more. It was like coming up for air and catching on fire, a perfect mix of finally and what now and please don't ever let go.

Her hand moved from his hair then, gently sliding down his neck, fingernails scraping gently there before she began to pull away. He leaned into her then, chasing her mouth with his own, not willing to be apart from her yet. She smiled, opening her eyes to see the way his lips parted and how he gasped for breath. His face was pink, and his lips were slightly swollen, and her fingers curled into the neck of his shirt.

"I didn't think you'd ever do that," she admitted, getting him to open his eyes and stare back at her. "I'm glad you did." She smiled a little as he finally pulled back. Daryl cleared his throat then, scooting back slightly on the bed. "Hey. You don't have to go. You didn't do anything wrong." Daryl looked at her, chewing his lip for a moment, and she smiled. God, that smile. She could smile despite the grave circumstances they were facing, and it could still make his heart race. "What does this mean?"

"Dunno," he murmured quietly, racing his finger along the pattern of the quilt. "Just wanted to do that in case I don't get the chance again." Carol leaned in this time, pressing her lips to his forehead and then to his mouth.

"Good," she said with a smile. "I'm glad we got that out of the way. Maybe when I'm feeling better, we can do some other things we should have done a long time ago." Her voice was teasing, and Daryl snorted, but he felt a stirring deep in his belly anyway.

"Stop," he muttered, and Carol gently dragged her fingers through his hair again.

"You should go check on the girls," she said quietly.

"Alright," he said with a nod. He got up and started for the door.

"Daryl?"

"Yeah?"

"We can't stay here. You know that, right? We have to keep moving."

"You lost too much blood. We're stayin' put 'til you're feelin' better."

"Daryl…"

"I ain't discussin' it. I'm tellin' you. We ain't goin' nowhere 'til you're strong enough." His tone was firm this time, and she nodded her head. He meant what he said, and if she knew anything about stubborn men, there was no use in arguing with them. Right now, she was too exhausted to argue, so she simply nodded and lay back against the mattress, closing her eyes and praying the pain in her arm would soon subside.

...

Lizzie and Mika had curled up on the old couch to sleep, leaving the bed to Carol so she could be more comfortable. Daryl slept on the floor behind the couch, while Judith slept peacefully in the dresser drawer, completely unaware of the situation she was in, of the world she'd been born into.

"Lizzie? Are you asleep?"

"Yes," Lizzie groaned.

"No you're not," Mika sighed. "I can't sleep."

"Well, I don't know what to tell you."

"Can you tell me a story?"

"I'm too tired for a story," Lizzie grumbled, burying her face into the back of the couch, sighing heavily as she struggled to try to get back to sleep.

"Lizzie?"

"What?"

"I have to go."

"Go where?"

"I have to _go_."

"Take the flashlight and your knife."

"Can you go with me?" Mika asked, getting up off the couch. Lizzie didn't respond. With a frown, Mika pulled her knife into her hand and reached around blindly for the flashlight she knew she'd put by the couch before they'd all settled down to sleep. She found it in moments and made her way to the door. Quietly, she lifted the latch and let herself outside, where the only sound she could hear was the symphony of crickets accompanied by the rustling leaves in the cool breeze.

Every scratch of leaf against tree bark could have been that walker at the fence coming for her. Every hoot of an owl could have been a warning of danger. The shivered, wrapping one arm around her middle while she kept her knife poised in her other hand.

She quickly made her way to a small group of bushes to do her business, and when she was finished, she hurried back to the cabin, breath catching in her chest as she let fear get the better of her.

Just as she was reaching for the door knob, the door swung open, and a bright light flooded her face. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out.

"The hell you doin' out here?" Daryl growled, pulling her inside the cabin. "You tryin' to get yourself killed?"

"I had to go," Mika whimpered, her trembling voice softening Daryl's hardened expression.

"You ain't t'go out there by yerself at night. Let somebody know. Tell your sister next time." Mika glanced over at Lizzie's sleeping form and sighed. It was no use. Grownups always believed the bigger kids, anyway. Still, she could try.

"But I…"

"Just go back to sleep, Mika."

"Yes, sir," Mika said quietly, on the verge of tears. She moved over to the couch and got back in her spot, still warm from where she'd been laying before. Daryl paused in the room for a moment, turning back to make certain the door was locked. His feet slid against the wooden slats of floorboard as he approached the bedroom. He peered into the darkness, his gaze sliding over her sleeping form. He could hear her breathing, and he could see the rise and fall of her chest as she slept.

Feeling a little more secure that things were alright, he settled back down on his spot on the floor, leaning over to check on Judith once before he rolled onto his back and closed his eyes, willing himself to get to sleep.

He heard a soft moan from the bedroom, and he sat up quickly, pulling himself up and into the room. She was on her side, crying into the pillow.

"Carol?" he whispered, gently placing his hand on her elbow, being careful of her shoulder. "Carol?" She didn't respond. She was crying in her sleep, and he had no idea what to do to help her. "I'm here. S'alright. It's gonna be ok." His words were soft, almost silent. Her sobs stopped, and her ragged breaths became even and deep, and he felt the knots in his stomach slowly untwisting. He gave her arm a gentle squeeze before he lay down on the floor next to her bed, bunched up an old rug to use as a pillow and began a sleepless night of listening to her breathe.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Carol groaned in pain as the bright morning light filtered through the grimy bedroom window. She rolled to her side, gently bringing her hand to her shoulder, expecting to feel fresh blood. To her surprise, her bandage was dry, and despite the pain, she was feeling quite a bit better.

She yawned, stretching a little and rolling onto her back. When she finally allowed her eyes to fully open and adjust to the brightness, she was startled to find Lizzie sitting on the edge of her bed staring at her.

"Who's Sophia?"

"What?" Carol asked, sitting up quickly, feeling a tug at her stitches as she moved.

"You said her name while you were sleeping," Lizzie said with a shrug, brows raised with intrigue.

"Oh," Carol murmured softly, running her fingers through her hair. "I did?"

"Mmmhmm," Lizzie said with a nod.

"Where's…where's Daryl?"

"He went out to look for water. Mika and Judith are still sleeping."

"Ok," Carol said quietly, sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "That's good."

"Where are you going?"

"I need some fresh air," she murmured. "Just need to get up and stretch my legs." She stood shakily, and Lizzie came around quickly, catching Carol's arm around her shoulders as Carol faltered.

"I'll walk with you," Lizzie offered. Carol offered her a small smile and nodded, and the two of them left the room, heading out toward the front door.

The air was cool and crisp, and Carol felt a lot better just stepping out into the fresh morning breeze. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the sun was already beating down, bathing them in warmth.

"It's nice here," Lizzie said quietly. "We could stay."

"It's a shack in the middle of nowhere," Carol replied. "We can't stay here. We're better off moving closer to a main road, somewhere we can travel easily, make supply runs."

"Or maybe we can find a place that has everything we need," Lizzie offered.

"Lizzie, you know that's impossible," Carol murmured. "Even the prison didn't have that."

"But we had food. We had a garden."

"But we didn't have the medical supplies we needed. If we had, Patrick would still be here."

"And Karen and David," Lizzie said quietly.

"Yeah," Carol murmured, looking away. "There's no way we can be prepared for everything. You need a group to build walls, to go on constant supply runs to bring those kinds of things in. Even then, nothing is certain. Nothing is permanent."

"It's what you prepared us for, right? You taught us about guns and knives, because you knew that we might be outside the prison walls someday. You were right." Lizzie looked off toward the path that led down to the fence. "Maybe one day we won't have to fight. Maybe one day…" Carol put her hand on Lizzie's shoulder.

"As long as those things are out there, we'll always have to fight. You fight or you die, and that's just the way it is now. Do you understand?" Lizzie looked off down the path again. "Lizzie?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"You understand that when those things come near, you _have_ to fight, don't you?" Lizzie nodded, flinching and looking away. Carol knelt down in front of her, wincing at the pain in her shoulder. She looked into the face of this girl, seeing the confusion swimming behind those big, sparkling eyes. "Honey, you have to understand. It's us and it's them, and we have to keep living. There's no time for the what if's. No time to daydream about what might happen, because it's never going to happen. Those things are here for one thing, and that's to kill, and _we_ have to stop them. What happens if we don't?"

Lizzie looked away, and Carol caught the girl's chin in her hand, forcing her to look at her.

"Lizzie? What happens if we don't stop them." Lizzie looked torn, searching for an answer, and Carol sighed, shoulders sagging. "What happens, Lizzie?"

"We die," she murmured.

"That's right."

"But what about after? How do you know being one of them is so bad? Maybe…maybe that's how it's _supposed_ to be. Like with the dinosaurs. Maybe it's time for the walkers and not for us."

"No," Carol said with a shake of her head. "That's giving up. And we don't give up. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how hard it is, we keep going, because that's life now." Lizzie looked off down the path again. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Lizzie said softly. "Can I go back inside, ma'am?"

"Go on. Get your sister up and get Judith ready."

"Are you coming?"

"I'll be along in a while," Carol said with a nod. "Go on." Lizzie nodded. "Lizzie?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Shirt tucked behind your knife, remember?"

"Yes, ma'am." Lizzie quickly rolled her shirt back, tucking it behind the knife. Carol watched the girl walk back into the cabin and closed her eyes, feeling the tears burning there. They'd been on the edge of spilling over from the moment she'd woken up and Lizzie had asked her about Sophia.

She thought of Sophia often, thought of the young lady she would be turning into today if she was stilla live. She often thought about how she would snuggle Sophia close when she was just a baby, holding onto her, reminding herself that Sophia was the one good thing she had in her life, that the entire marriage to Ed hadn't been for nothing.

Ever since she'd told Lizzie and Mika's father that she'd watch over his girls, she'd dreamed of Sophia. Other nights, she'd dream of Karen and David and of the events that had led up to them dying. She'd dream of Karen coughing up blood as she looked into her eyes, a silent plea to end it.

She felt sick, and the burn of bile in the back of her throat was overwhelming. She threw her hand over her mouth, rushing down the path toward the bushes, falling to her knees along the side of an old elm tree, throwing up the meager contents of her stomach into the dusty red soil.

She coughed and sputtered, spitting onto the ground, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. It was then that she felt his hand between her shoulder blades, and she heard the crunch of his boots on the rocks beneath them.

"You ok?" he asked, touching her forehead as she looked up at him with watery eyes. "No fever."

"I'm ok. I feel better," she promised. "Just the last couple of days catching up with me, I guess."

"I found some water. Gonna boil it on the stove 'fore we can use it, but I think it's safe. Gonna go back for more so's we can clean up a little."

"Thank you," Carol murmured.

"Oh. Here," he said quietly, reaching into his pocket and bringing out his red handkerchief. "Found some berries. These are safe for eatin'. You eat first."

"The girls," she said with a shake of her head. "I'll get more. You need to get your strength up. Eat 'em."

"I'll throw them up," she muttered.

"Then I'll get ya some more. Go on." She reluctantly took the berries from his hand and popped one into her mouth, chewing slowly as the sweet juice burst from it and coated her tongue. She moaned softly, swallowing it down and quickly eating another one.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"Here." He took a bottle of water out of his pack and opened it up for her. She took a big drink and passed it back to him.

"Better," she said with a weak smile. "Thank you."

"Didn't think you'd be up so early."

"My shoulder was bothering me," she admitted.

"You take your antibiotics?"

"Not yet."

"I'll get 'em. Be right back." Daryl gave her good shoulder a little squeeze before he got up and headed toward the shack. It wasn't long before Carol heard scraping footsteps close by.

"That was quick," she chuckled. And then she heard it. The low moan, the growl, the shuffling scrape of old shoes against the earth. It was then that the walker came up the path, hands outstretched, teeth gnashing. A hole in its belly spilled a string of intestine and tissue out, and Carol had to hold her breath as the scrambled backward, the putrid smell filling her nostrils.

Her fingers found purchase in the soil, and she dragged herself backward, scooting herself across the ground. No time to get up. That would give it time to get closer. She reached for her knife, holding the blade between her teeth as she struggled to put some distance between herself and the advancing walker.

She turned then, a blinding pain causing her to cry out as her shoulder throbbed. She struggled to her feet then, feeling its hands grabbing for her arm.

"No!" she cried out, taking her knife in her teeth and swinging, missing and getting the walker in the shoulder. "Shit!" She struggled to get her arm free as it squeezed tighter. She forced the knife out of flesh and muscle, kicking the walker square in the belly to put some space between them. It didn't move. It was larger than her, stronger, and she felt dizzy as the fingers pressed harder into her flesh, begging to tear it from the bone.

A hot flush of panic rushed through her then, and the knife dropped from her hand. _Fuck!_

Its teeth clicked together as it leaned in, straining to bite her. She held herself back, trying to wrench her arm free of its grasp. She kicked at it again, and it loosened its grip on her arm just enough for her to pull away. The knife was behind the walker now, no longer an option for Carol, and she turned, willing her legs to function as she pulled herself up the path.

"Daryl!" she grunted out, breath burning her lungs as she heard the walker advancing on her. "Daryl!"

The door to the cabin swung open, and Daryl came rushing out, crossbow in hand.

"Get down!" he barked, and she threw herself on the ground as Daryl let a bolt fly, getting the walker right between the eyes. It slumped to the ground then, and Daryl rushed to Carol, helping her sit up, as Lizzie and Mika gathered in the doorway.

"Hey, you ok?" he asked, helping her up, pulling her to her feet.

"Yeah. I think so. Just caught me off guard." She winced in pain. "My knife's back there somewhere."

"I'll get it. Where'd it come from?" Carol pointed down the path, and Daryl readied his crossbow. "Alright. I'll check it out. Stay with the girls." Carol nodded, groaning and making her way up into the doorway, putting her hands on each of the girls' shoulders.

"Come inside." Mika did as Carol said, but Lizzie stayed put, gaze locked on the walkers with the arrow through its head. "Lizzie."

"Ma'am?" Her voice shook, and her hands were clenched at her sides, white knuckles scraping against her khaki pants.

"Lizzie, that thing would have killed us." Lizzie said nothing. Instead, she turned and rushed into the cabin. Carol sighed heavily, leaning against the door frame. It wasn't long before Daryl came back up the path with Carol's knife in his hand and his crossbow slung over his shoulder.

"Must've got caught up on the fence and made its way over. Looks like just one of 'em. Think we're alright for now, but we're gonna have to move out in a day or two."

"Daryl," Carol murmured, "I'm worried about Lizzie."

"She alright?"

"I…I don't know," she murmured, wincing as the pain in her arm increased. "I think she's confused about them. About walkers." Daryl's gaze focused over Carol's shoulder and into the dim cabin where the girls were huddled inside with Judith. "I don't know how to reach her."

"She'll learn," he said with a grunt, hoisting his bag up on his shoulder and reaching into his pocket for Carol's antibiotics. He passed them to her. "Here. Better take these." Carol nodded, doing as he said, swallowing the pills down with a quick swig of water. "Want me to talk to her?"

"I've tried. She just doesn't seem to understand," Carol murmured. "She saw what those things did to her father. She's seen them kill people. She's seen people turn. But she doesn't get it." She shook her head, lowering her voice a little more. "I'm not sure how we can protect her if she doesn't think there's anything to be afraid of."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Carol slowly sunk down on the bed. Her body ached. Both of her arms were now sore, and she knew she was probably going to be pretty bruised up from her tussle with the walker that morning. Daryl hadn't been too keen on leaving the girls at all that day with the walker coming so close that morning, but he also knew that they needed supplies, they needed a car, they needed formula for Judith, because she was running far too low.

He'd set out around noon, and Carol was now peeking out the window as the sun began to set, casting a bluish haze about the clearing around the cabin. Judith had been fussy all afternoon, and Carol had managed to give her a bit of a bath with the help of the girls holding her in an old, metal basin used for clothes washing. After her bath and a bottle, Judith had gone right to sleep, and Carol had spent the rest of the afternoon keeping an eye on Lizzie, while Mika helped her cook up the rest of the squirrels Daryl had caught.

Things had been alright. Carol had got the girls' minds off of things by playing a game, seeing how many movies they could remember starting with each letter of the alphabet. Normally, she wouldn't have wanted to remind them of the past, of the way things would never be again, but given Lizzie's confused state, keeping her mind off of the horrors outside seemed to be doing wonders for her. It had, at least, taken her mind off of the walker that had invaded their camp that morning.

"He'll be back soon," Mika piped in, coming over to stand next to the window with Carol.

"I know," Carol said softly, putting her arm around the little girl's shoulders. "He will be." Mika smiled up at her, and it broke Carol's heart. While there was Lizzie who was confused about walkers, there was Mika who still had such a childish innocence about her. Too sweet for a world like this. In many ways, she reminded her of Sophia, and it scared the hell out of her. The last thing she wanted was the same fate for these girls. She'd promised their father.

She'd kept them at arms' length for a while, trying to be firm with them, not letting them get too emotionally attached to her. First and foremost, teaching them how to survive had been important. But now that they were outside of the prison, she'd let her guard down a little. She had to be firm with them, but the walls she'd put up around herself had started to crumble little by little, and now, as she looked down at Mika, she felt a wave of emotion overwhelm her.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Carol said with a shake of her head. "Just thinking about someone."

"Sophia?" Lizzie asked, making her way over. Carol eye the girl and nodded her head. "Who was she?" Carol opened her mouth, but, unable to find the words, closed it again. It was then that the front door opened, causing them all to jump. Carol placed her hand to her chest, smiling in relief when Daryl walked through the door. He had a pack slung over his shoulder, and he looked pleased with himself. Well, as pleased with himself as Daryl Dixon could look, anyway.

"Got a car. Road's about a mile through the trees. I'm figurin', if you're feelin' up to it, we'll make a go for it in the mornin'." Carol nodded. "How's your arm?"

"It hurts, but I feel better," she promised.

"Good," he murmured. "Found some clothes. Think I got the girls' sizes 'bout right. Uh, got some food here, some bottled water. We'll be alright tonight." He cleared his throat, placing the pack down by the wood stove. "Gonna go down get some more water by the creek. Lizzie? Mika? You wanna help get some kindlin'? There's a bunch just outside."

"I can do something," Carol offered.

"You can rest yer arm. Gonna have to wash it. Make sure there ain't no infection," Daryl pointed out. "Won't be long. You girls stay close to the house. One grabs the wood, the other keeps watch, understand?"

"Yes, sir," Mika said with a nod. "C'mon, Lizzie." Lizzie complacently followed her sister outside, and Daryl gently brushed his hand over Carol's good shoulder. "Change of clothes might do you some good."

"You get anything for yourself while you were out there?" Carol asked with a teasing grin.

"You sayin' I stink or somethin'?"

"We could all use some cleaning up," Carol allowed. She leaned in and pressed her lips against his cheek. "Thank you for doing all of this. I hate feeling so helpless."

"Ain't helpless. Just hurt. That's why I want ya to take it easy. You'll be alright in a week or two."

"Is that all?" Carol asked with a sigh. She shrugged her shoulders and moved to turn, but Daryl caught her around the middle, hands resting gently against her hips.

"Hey," he murmured. "M'glad you're safe. Won't be gone long. Lock up when the girls come back, alright?" She nodded, and he leaned in, brushing his lips gently over hers. She flinched slightly at the sensation but quickly warmed to it just as he pulled away. "Be back 'fore sundown."

"Ok," she said with a nod. "Hurry back."

...

The lantern was burning low, and Carol knew it was only a matter of time before the fuel ran out all together. Daryl had come back just in time to sit down and have a meager meal with Carol and the girls. Daryl had taken a large basin into the bedroom and placed it on the dresser. The girls had taken turns going back to have quick sponge baths and a change of clothes. And then Carol had bathed Judith and put her down for the night with a bottle. Daryl had poured fresh water just for Carol, and he'd placed a change of clothes on the bed for her. He'd managed to find a light blue top that he thought matched her eyes, a pair of khaki pants that he knew would be suitable to accommodate her gun and knife, and even some undergarments and socks, which he'd quickly snatched on his supply run, hoping he was somewhat close to being accurate on her size. If he knew anything about women, he knew that buying too big might insult them, but there'd be no use in buying too small, so he just said a silent prayer and hoped for the best.

"Got this for ya," he said quietly, holding out a small box. "Thought you might like it." He slipped it into Carol's hand, and she opened it up, her eyes lighting up at the sight of it. She brought it to her nose and inhaled deeply.

"Oh, it smells like cranberry," she said with a soft hum. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a whole bar of soap to herself, and she felt a little guilty about it, but at the same time, it warmed her heart that he'd thought to get it for her. "Thank you."

"You, uh, you can get yourself cleaned up. Holler if you need anything." Carol nodded and slipped into the bedroom, shutting the door after herself. She winced in pain, stepping out of her shoes and sliding her socks off. She gasped softly at the pull in her stitches and carefully undid the button of her pants. She slowly disrobed down to nothing but her bra and took her time washing herself as thoroughly as she could, relishing the feel of the warmth of the water and the clean scent of the soap. Suddenly realized she couldn't reach around to unclasp her bra, and she chewed her lip, considering her options.

Quickly, she pulled on a the fresh pair of underwear, the socks and the pants, and then she sat there on the bed in her tattered bra, and she sighed. The only thing left to do was to ask for help, and it certainly wasn't the time to be shy now.

"Daryl? Can you come in here, please?" she called. She heard his boots, heavy against the floorboards, and then the door opened.

"Girls are all sleepin', and I…" He froze in the doorway as he saw her sitting there completely dressed from the waist down, good arm folded in front of her bra-covered breasts. "Uh…sorry."

"No, it's ok," she murmured, stopping him before he could turn and leave. "I need help. And…well, we're both adults, aren't we?" Daryl swallowed hard, and he cleared his throat. "I wouldn't ask, but I'll need the back of my shoulder cleaned, too, and I just…can you help me?"

"Ok," he murmured, blushing furiously as he moved to sit on the bed. She turned away from him, and he moved his hand up to her shoulder before quickly pulling away. "What…what do you need me to do?"

"I need this off," she said quietly. "Can you?" Daryl held his breath as he unclasped her bra, and when the hooks were free, the straps fell down her arms. He stopped touching her then, letting her take it off the rest of the way. He watched as her good arm came across her chest to cover herself. "And the bandage."

"Alright." He carefully removed the bandage from her wound. "Looks good."

"Good," Carol said softly. "Um…can you just...can you wash my back? I mean, the back of the wound." He could see the back of her neck turning red, and he couldn't help the grin that started at the corners of his mouth. He felt a little bit better knowing she was just as embarrassed as he was.

"Alright," he replied quietly. He reached into the basin and wrung out the rag before slowly dabbing it over the wound. Carol hissed softly at the sensation, and he withdrew his hand. "M'sorry."

"It's ok. It has to be done. Just…careful." His touch was feather light next time. One hand moved to her good shoulder, and she gently rolled her head forward at the touch. He gently dabbed at the exit wound with the cloth, being careful of the stitches. When he was satisfied that it was clean enough, he trailed the cloth down her back. Her head jerked up then, but she said nothing, as he moved it over the creamy plane of her back. His fingers moved over her spine then, and her eyelids fluttered closed. He couldn't see that, but he heard the soft sight she let out, and he realized he'd probably better stop.

"Um, alright. You..uh…you wanna do the front?"

"Good idea," she said with a chuckle. He draped the cloth over her shoulder, and she reached for it.

"Want me to…? I can go."

"I'll need help." She nodded toward the bra. "And a new bandage."

"Right," he muttered. He cleared his throat, and she smiled, reaching for the cloth and making quick work of running it over her neck and chest and stomach. She gently cleaned the front of the wound, all the while feeling the bed shift as Daryl tried to focus on anything but the fact that she was sitting there topless right next to him. "All done."

"Good," he muttered. "I mean…alright, just tell me what to do." Carol nodded, grabbing the bra and pulling it into her lap. Her shoulders shook in a moment, before she let out a little snort. "What?"

"You're sweet," she laughed. "I'm impressed you got the band size right. And I'm a little flattered that you think I'm a C-cup."

"Aw, shit." Carol laughed then, and Daryl ran his palm over his face. "It's ok. It'll work. Might have to stuff it a bit, though."

"Sorry," he muttered.

"It's ok. A girl can't be too picky in the apocalypse." She quickly put the straps over her shoulders, and Daryl quickly fastened it. She looked down at herself, giggling a little before shaking her head. "It's ok. I always wanted to know what it'd be like to be a C-cup. Not bad."

"I'll find ya somethin' else. Did the…uh…underwear at least fit?"

"You did good," she promised. Daryl let out a sigh of relief, before he reached over into one of the packs and started pulling out what he needed to wrap her wound again. "Relax. The hard part's over."

"Yeah," he snorted, "easy for you to say." He froze then, and Carol peeked over her shoulder to see the blush in his cheeks at his own words. "That came out…wrong." Carol snickered again, feeling better than she had in days, and she turned, rolling her head forward and keeping still so he could finish dressing her wound.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The walk to the highway was slow and uneventful. Daryl had kept to the back, keeping an eye out all around for any walkers or other potential threats. Carol walked along behind the girls, and baby Judith slept snuggled in a sling Daryl had made. He'd offered to carry her, but Carol had insisted. So, Daryl had carefully placed the sling over Carol's good shoulder, draping it across her body. He'd put Judith in it, and she'd fallen asleep cradled against Carol's chest. It wasn't the most practical device for a baby Judith's age, but it was better than nothing, and she'd slept through their walk through the woods.

It had taken them a while to reach the car, and by the time they piled inside the old station wagon, Lizzie and Mika stretched out in the back seat and fell fast asleep. The bench seat in front gave plenty of room for Carol to lay Judith between her and Daryl.

They sat there for a few minutes catching their breaths, before Daryl turned the key in the ignition and it fired right up.

"Where do we go?" Carol asked quietly, buckling her seat belt, looking in the rearview mirror. A couple walkers were about a half of a mile back, so it didn't concern her. What was unsettling was not knowing where to go. It suddenly felt like the winter before the prison all over again.

"Look for shelter," Daryl said quietly. "Some place secure, maybe with fences."

"So a farm? Or…some big fancy house with tall, iron gates?"

"Somethin'," Daryl murmured. "Can't stay out on the road. Not with three little girls, 'specially with you hurt." Carol stared off out the window.

"We're not far," Carol considered. She glanced at Daryl. "From the prison? We're not far. We should circle back and see if there are any survivors."

"You crazy?" Daryl asked, knuckles whitening as he gripped the steering wheel. "Fences are down, and the place has gotta be crawlin' with geeks. Anybody still there is either dead, turned or trapped in the prison, and we ain't gonna be able to get to 'em. We ain't findin' nobody back in that prison. It's a graveyard now."

"You're right," Carol said quietly. "I just thought…for Judith's sake. Carl and Rick may still be out there."

"If they're out there, I reckon we'll come across 'em sometime. Can't go back. Gotta keep movin'." Carol nodded.

"You're right. I wasn't thinkin'."

"You were," Daryl said quietly. "You were thinkin' 'bout her." He nodded toward the baby. "If Rick's out there…he could be anywhere. We gotta find walls first." He put the car into drive and headed off down the highway.

"I have to go," Mika whined, as Daryl pulled the car up outside of an old drug store.

"Would you stop?" Lizzie huffed. "You've been whining for an hour."

"I can't help it," Mika groaned.

"Well, don't be such a baby."

"Would you both stop?" Daryl snapped from the front seat. "There'll be a place to go in there."

"I'll take her," Carol offered, passing Judith off to Daryl.

"You sure?"

"Sure I'm sure," Carol replied. She grabbed her gun, turning the safety off and getting out of the car. "Come on, Mika." She turned back to Daryl. "Give us five minutes, alright?" He nodded, keeping an eye on Carol as she and Mika hurried up to the door.

"She's such a baby sometimes," Lizzie complained, folding her arms across her chest in the back seat.

"She's just a kid," Daryl reminded her. "Matter'a fact, so are you, so I don't know what you're gripin' about." He glanced at Lizzie in the rear-view mirror.

"She's scared all the time."

"World's a scary place. You ain't scared?"

"No," Lizzie replied with a shake of her head. "I'm not afraid of anything."

"Sure you are."

"I'm not."

"Everybody's afraid of somethin'," Daryl said quietly. "Me? I was afraid of the neighbor's dog. Sumbitch seemed like he stood eight feet tall when he hopped up, puttin' his paws on the fence. 'Course, I was four, and everything and everybody seemed so much bigger'n me."

"So did you get over it? Being afraid?" Daryl shrugged one shoulder.

"Dog got loose one night when I was playin' out in the yard. Thought he was gonna kill me, thought I was dead. But he come up and licked me right on the face."

"So you didn't have anything to be afraid of?"

"Didn't say that," Daryl said quietly, picking at his cuticles, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "Your dad? He was a good guy. Didn't know him real well, but I talked to him a couple times. He was nice. My old man wasn't. One day, he left the back door open, and he was smackin' me around. That dog came runnin' into that house, bit my dad right on the arm."

"He protected you," Lizzie said quietly.

"Sure did. Got himself shot in the process. My old man shot him right in front of me." He glanced in the mirror, and Lizzie looked away. "I spent all that time bein' scared of that big old dog, when my old man could hurt me a hundred times worse than that dog every could." He bounced Judith a little on his knee. "First thing I was afraid of was that dog. Second thing I was afraid of? My old man. Spent so much time bein' afraid of somethin' that was only gonna protect me from what I really shoulda been afraid of."

"What should I be afraid of?" Lizzie asked quietly. "People do bad things. Really bad things. I've heard stories about that Governor guy. If I'd been there, I'd have shot him right between the eyes." Daryl watched the way Lizzie spoke so nonchalantly about it all. "I'd have shot him before he had the chance to hurt anybody else."

"You woulda?"

"I'm a good shot," Lizzie said quietly.

"And walkers," Daryl said quietly. "More walkers than people now."

"I'm not afraid of walkers."

"I know you ain't," Daryl said quietly. "But you should be, 'cause all them stories you heard 'bout monsters under your bed when you was Mika's age? Those are the monsters."

"That's stupid," Lizzie replied. "They're just sick. They're people."

"They're _dead_ people, and you know what? Even if somebody found a cure, they'd still be dead people, only they wouldn't be up and walkin' around. Only good walker's a dead one. He saw a flash in the girl's eyes, a real flash of something that he couldn't put his finger on, but before he had a chance to ask her about it, Carol and Mika came walking out of the store.

Mika slid into the back seat and passed something in a shiny wrapper to Lizzie.

"Here. Got one for you," Mika said with a smile. "It's your favorite." Lizzie looked down at the wrapped candy bar in her hand and then back at her sister.

"Hey, thanks," she said with a smile. Mika smiled back, and Daryl kept his eyes trained on the older girl's face, watching the way she forced that smile, the way she pretended to be a kid happy with a gift from her little sister. She took a bite, pretending to savor the sweet taste of slightly stale chocolate. She looked like an innocent child, like someone too young for all the burdens this new world put upon her shoulders. But her eyes told another story. Something dark, and Daryl understood now why Carol was worried. He was worried too.

"Look what I found," Carol said, pulling open her pack and revealing five cans of formula. "And they aren't past their date yet." She reached for Judith, pulling the baby into her lap. "At least one of us will have a full tummy tonight, huh, Judith?"

"Anything else in there?"

"Some chocolate bars. Some chips. Guess we have sweet and salty, at least." She gave him a shrug and leaned back against the seat. Daryl started the car but went nowhere. Carol turned her head, gazing at him, watching as he looked uncertainly at the road ahead of them. "Where now?"

"Anywhere but here." He nodded toward the alley next to the store, where a few walkers were starting to stumble out, eyes fixed on the car, pale, dead eyes rolling back in their heads as they shuffled toward the car.

He hit the gas, and they sped off out of the small town, directionless but moving. All they had to do was keep moving.

...

The car sputtered and stalled in front of a row of nice houses, each fenced in, sidewalks peppered with two years of leaves and debris from dozens of storms. The sun was setting, and it would be foolish to go out looking for gas in the dark.

"Looks like this is our stop for the night," Daryl murmured, turning off the car lights and sticking the keys in his shirt pocket. "Which one'll it be?"

"I like that one," Mika murmured softly, pointing to a small white house with black shutters and a porch swing swaying gently in the breeze. However, the window in which it was perched in front of was shattered, no doubt broken by the swing banging into it in a bad storm.

"Look at the window, Mika," Carol pointed out. "It's not safe."

"Well, we could board it up," she insisted.

"We ain't stayin' long enough to waste the energy on it."

"How about that one?" Lizzie asked, pointing to a slightly larger house, brick with a full length porch and knocked over patio furniture.

"See that fence? Probably got a yard fulla walkers," Daryl said with a shake of his head.

"That one," Carol said pointedly, gesturing toward a little tan house with the blue shutters and an upstairs. It looked secure, and judging by the tricycle and toddler toys scattered over the lawn and the kiddie pool in the side yard, it had at least been a kid-friendly home. Maybe there was even an honest to goodness crib that Judith could sleep in.

"That one," Daryl said with a nod. "Alright. Let's check it out."

...

It turned out that Carol had quite a knack for choosing houses. There was a master bedroom with a crib off to one side. As soon as Carol had changed her, she'd put her down in the crib and watched her fall asleep. Lizzie and Mika had chosen the small room down the hall complete with bunk beds and toys. Carol checked in on them. Lizzie was lying on the top bunk with her arms folded under her arms, and Mika was reading by flashlight. She'd tucked them in and moved to the living room, where Daryl was cleaning his arrows and examining them for wear and tear.

"They're all settled in," she said with a soft sigh, slumping down on the couch next to him. Daryl put his arrows down and leaned back against the couch, drawing his arm instinctively along the back of the couch behind her head. She smiled a little, leaning into him, resting her head against his shoulder.

"Think you're right," he murmured.

"About what?"

"Lizzie. She's confused."

"Yes. She is." Carol sighed softly, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. "What should we do?"

"Don't know, but I wanna keep an eye on her." He turned to look at Carol's face, seeing the pain and exhaustion etched there.

"I promised their father I'd look after them like they were my own. And I don't know how to do that. I don't want…they aren't mine. I can't convince myself of that. I can't pretend that everything's going to be ok. I can't baby them. Kids don't get the luxury of being innocent anymore. Not in this world. But Lizzie…she's…and Mika's so young, so sweet. She reminds me of Sophia. So scared and uncertain and anxious."

"We'll look out," he murmured, sighing and leaning into the couch. "We'll watch 'em close, keep 'em prepared. Lizzie'll learn. She'll figure it out."

"You think so?" Carol yawned, and Daryl moved his arm, moving it behind her back, wrapping around her waist as she leaned against him. He didn't answer. Instead, he did something she didn't expect. He turned, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. She turned her face toward his, looking questioningly in his eyes, a tired, sad smile curling at her lips. He leaned in then, pressing his lips softly against hers.

"We should sleep," he said quietly. "You can have the master…stay with Judith, if ya want."

"You're staying with me, aren't you?" she asked, getting a blush out of him.

"If ya want me to."

"I do," she said with a nod. "C'mon, Pookie. Let's go to bed." She stood then, reaching her hand out for his. He took it, joining her, following her back to the master bedroom. They chose their sides of the bed, crawled in, boots and all, and she rolled onto her good shoulder, smiling as he reached out and curled his fingers with hers.

"G'night," he murmured, eyes closing slowly.

"Night," she whispered, leaning in, pressing a kiss to his forehead. She closed her eyes and slowly let sleep pull her under, taking her to a time and a place where there were no walkers, where children laughed and played again, and where every day wasn't a constant battle for survival. And in that dream, he waited for her, standing there with his hand stretched out, waiting for her to slip her hand in his. And she took his hand and held it, feeling his grip tighten on her, and all she wanted was for him to hold on and never let go.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Carol gently ran her fingers over the pink scar on her shoulder. The winter had brought colder weather, but the passing of time had brought healing to Carol's wound. She still had twinges of pain, but she'd healed well, and she worked daily at increasing her range of motion. Daryl had even taken her out to teach her the crossbow, something that used quite a bit of shoulder muscle, and it really seemed to help.

They'd holed up in an old farmhouse for the winter, one built of brick and surrounded by trees on one side, a barn on the other, something to block out the winter wind, at least. Carol couldn't remember a Georgia winter so cold. Snow used to be a rarity, but they'd gotten nearly a foot dumped on them around what she figured to be Christmas. Mika had had a ball playing in the snow, and Daryl had even taken Judith out in a little snow suit to let her play.

She was close to taking her first steps. It wouldn't be long, and she was such a happy baby. Despite the cold, despite the solitude, she had latched onto Carol and Daryl, and she rarely let either Mika or Lizzie hold her.

Lizzie seemed to be doing better. She would play with her sister and with the baby, and given the solitude the farm provided, the anxiety she often showed and her confusion about walkers and people seemed to be almost dormant. She was very much a normal little girl by all appearances, but it didn't mean the worry was gone. She was still a confused child who had trouble grasping the reality of this world.

Walkers had been scarce. The farm wasn't fenced off like the Greene farm had been, but they were far enough away from the larger cities that walkers rarely made their way out far enough to be a real threat. About once a week, Daryl would spot one in the distance from the attic, which Daryl converted into something of a watchtower. The little bit of heat he got up there was from the exhaust pipe from the wood stove down on the first floor. They kept it going more often than not, and when it was burning, the pipe put off a bit of heat as the exhaust exited out through the roof.

On one particular day, Daryl came down the back stairs and into the kitchen, crossbow slung over his shoulder. Carol stood at the stove, turning over some partially cooked meat with a fork.

"You see one?" she asked, putting the lid back over the pot.

"Yeah."

"Want some company?"

"Sure," he said with a little grin.

"Good. Give me two minutes to find a coat and check on the girls." However, before she could slip out of the kitchen, he caught her hand in his. Her eyes widened, as her gaze fixed on his. These were the moments she looked forward to. These were the moments that made her just a little anxious, because every time, she felt herself start to lose a little more control over her desires.

The winter had been long. They'd shared a bed in the first couple of places they'd stayed, but when they'd moved into this house, a place of a little more permanence, Daryl had taken to sleeping up in the attic, and it had bewildered her. It was more like he was giving her space than pulling away. He was always there. She'd go up to him in the middle of the night, and they would snuggle together, warm under a blanket. They would kiss, and it would always begin to turn to something more, but it never quite did. There were interruptions, or he would pull back and urge her to get some rest. She knew he wanted it. She'd been bold one night, moving her hand down his chest, brushing lightly over the erection that strained in his jeans. His eyes had blown wide, and he'd thrown his head back, but that was it. Then the moment passed, because neither one of them had quite been able to make that leap and just go for it.

It was strange, going from being friends to being more than friends, and while Carol found it sweet that they were taking their time, this snail's pace was getting to her, which was why she was a little surprised when his fingers had curled against hers.

He stepped closer, lips a breath away from hers, and he brushed his hand over her cheek, fingers threading into her hair. She smiled a little, before he stepped closer, pressing into her, kissing her softly. It wasn't urgent, not like it should be when he was about to run out the door to put down a walker. It was as if nothing outside that door mattered, and Carol opened up to him, feeling herself being back against the wall.

She let out a choked breath when he pulled back, and she lifted her hand to stroke his cheek.

"I should…" She nodded toward the stairs. He kept his eyes on her, a grin pulling at his lips. She smiled at him then, leaning in to press her lips against his quickly before sliding away from the wall and hurrying up the stairs, heart beating so fast she thought she might faint. That kiss held something more, something of a promise, and she could barely concentrate long enough to zip up her coat.

"Where are you going?" Mika asked, standing in the doorway of Carol's room. Carol startled, turning and smiling at the girl.

"We'll be back in a few minutes. Where's Lizzie?"

"Lizzie's writing in her diary," Mika said with an eye roll. "Judith's asleep."

"Alright. You should go read."

"There's a walker out there, isn't there?" Mika murmured, eyes widening.

"It's nothing to worry about. Daryl and I will take care of it. You go read, alright?"

"Yes, ma'am," Mika said softly. She moved to hug Carol around the middle. Carol bristled slightly but relaxed, gently stroking Mika's long, blonde hair.

"Go on, now. Go." Her voice was soft but stern. She'd been trying to keep the girls at a distance. Getting attached was the last thing she wanted. The pain of losing Sophia was something she would never forget. She felt it every day. Though she tried to keep Lizzie and Mika at an emotional distance, she still couldn't stand to think of losing them. She was responsible for raising them, for looking after them and teaching them how to survive this world. She had to be their teacher first. She couldn't be their mother or their friend. Being Sophia's mother hadn't kept her little girl from dying. It certainly couldn't do Lizzie and Mika any good, either.

Mika tore away and headed back out of the room. Carol sighed softly, pulling her knife out from under her pillow. She tucked it into the front of her belt and headed down the stairs and out onto the back porch, where Daryl was having a smoke.

"Ready?" he murmured, glancing at her briefly before looking out at the vast field of white, prickled by rotting corn stalks.

"Mmm," he said with a nod, giving him a little smile. "Which way?" He pointed, handing her the binoculars. She looked out, spotting the walker about a half a mile away. It was lurching toward them.

"Wanna meet him halfway?"

"Sounds good," she replied. She pulled her knife into her hand, and Daryl raised an eyebrow. "You got this?"

"Yep." She nodded, taking off down the porch with Daryl right on her heels. She heard him clear his throat, and when she turned around, she saw the way his gaze was glued to her ass. She smirked and turned back around, leaving Daryl oblivious to the fact that she'd caught him staring at her ass.

...

"I'm impressed," he said with a nod, walking alongside her as she wiped her blade on an old cornhusk. She shrugged, sheathing the weapon again and throwing the muck-covered husk into the snow. "I mean, with that arm and all."

"Good as new," she replied with a grin.

"Yeah? Don't hurt at all?"

"Just a little, but it's nothing to cry about." She looked at him, seeing the smile on his face. It wasn't such a rare thing anymore. Being out here, not having to constantly worry about how they were going to eat—hunting was good this winter—or where they would sleep tomorrow had a very positive effect on Daryl's attitude. "What?"

"Nothin'," he muttered. He looked up to the sky. "Gonna snow tonight."

"Mmmhmm. You should sleep downstairs," she said quietly, looking toward the house. "My room's plenty warm enough."

"You invitin' me to your bed?"

"It's an open invitation. You're just too stubborn to accept it," she pointed out. "You don't have to keep watch every night, Daryl." He caught the tone of her words, and he ducked his head a little, a flush of red stinging his cheeks.

"When you got people to protect, ain't easy to let your guard down," he said quietly, glancing at her for a moment before looking back toward the house. Carol turned then, facing him, and he stopped suddenly, snow kicking up, brushing over hers but narrowly missing tripping and falling right into her. His gaze immediately focused on her mouth and the way she bit her bottom lip. "What?"

"Just checking your reflexes," she teased. She reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. His hands were on her waist then, and he brought her in, kissing her softly. She sighed against his lips, her body warming at the simple touch. When she finally pulled away, she took a few steps backward. "The invitation still stands. I just wanted you to know." She turned then, her own cheeks pinking up, and she headed toward the house. He stared after her, his face and the back of his neck tingling at the images that moved through his head at the prospect of going to her that night, and he shivered. Swallowing hard, he shifted his crossbow over his shoulder, ducked his head a little against the bracing wind and followed her back to the farmhouse.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

He shivered, taking a sip from the flask he'd stored up in the attic for especially cold nights. He couldn't remember a Georgia winter so damned cold. He remembered when folks from up north used to travel down south for the winter just to get away from the cold. The world sure had changed.

He leaned his head back, peering out over the moonlight field, vision blurring from exhaustion. He shivered, taking another sip of whiskey. He put the flask aside, hearing Carol's words echo through his head. _The invitation still stands. I just wanted you to know_.

It wasn't that he hadn't wanted to go to her. He'd wanted to more than anything. But things were different. Their relationship had been friendly. And then, somehow, Carol had become the one person he couldn't get his mind off of. He wanted her. It scared him how much he wanted her, and he knew she had feelings for him. They spent nights cuddling up in the attic, kissing. Sometimes their touches bordered on heavy petting, and she stirred something in him that he couldn't explain in words.

No, it was a nagging anxiety inside of him. He was terrified of something good happening, because since the turn, every time something somewhat good happened, something far worse happened in its wake. They'd found the CDC, and then Jenner had delivered the blow that there was no hope. They'd escaped the CDC's lockdown and Sophia went missing and Carl got shot. They'd found the Greene farm, and Carl had been saved, but Sophia had died. They'd found the prison, but Lori and T-Dog had died, and he'd damned near lost Carol, too. The idea of getting comfortable; of being happy was almost too painful to think about, because the next bad thing could be just around the corner.

These past few months with Carol and the girls had changed him. He felt protective, as he always had with Carol, but he felt like maybe, something good might actually come out of this whole goddamned mess that had become his life. Their lives. He looked at her, and he didn't see the quarry or Ed or Sophia or the prison. He didn't see Rick and the group, he didn't see Karen and David. He saw _her._ He saw himself in her eyes, saw the way she looked at him like he was worth something.

He tapped his fingers along the flask, considering having another swig. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back, waiting. Waiting for what? He tossed the flask away again, scooting over to get a closer look out the window. Nothing but snow. It wasn't much, but he'd been right. It was a quiet night. No walkers to be seen, no threats to be monitored. And she was downstairs. In bed. Waiting for him. How long would she wait? How the hell could he keep her waiting?

"Fuck it," he muttered, pulling himself to his feet, boots scraping against the attic floor as he made his way to the door. She'd hear him coming, he knew, but he didn't really care. He was tired of keeping his distance; tired of denying himself and her something that they both clearly wanted and needed from each other. He was tired of trying to push back these feelings he'd been having for far too damned long. She'd extended him an invitation, and he'd be a stupid son of a bitch to refuse.

He made his way down the attic stairs, being as quiet as he could. He stopped at the girls' room. It was silent inside. He turned to Carol's door. He could see the glow of the firelight from the hearth in her room. His mouth went dry. His heart pounded in his ears, and he fought against every urge to turn and flee the other way, because women like her weren't supposed to want men like him. His whole life, he'd been some redneck asshole, and sex had been something done in the back of his truck of against the wall in the bar bathroom. Getting off had been the goal, but he'd never been intimate with someone. He felt like he knew her already. And she knew him. The prospect of completely giving himself over to her was terrifying.

He reached out, fingers trembling as he gripped the doorknob. He gave it a little twist, feeling the warmth from the room breath into his face the moment the door cracked open.

She was lying in bed, covered up to her belly with a blue quilt. She looked up when the door opened, putting down the book she'd been attempting to read by the light of the fire. He saw the hint of a smile dance across her face, eyes sparkling as she looked up at him expectantly.

He kicked his boots off, closing the door behind himself, standing there for a moment, not sure if he should say something or make a grand gesture. Instead, he moved over to the bed and sat down. She gave him that warm smile, that smile that made him feel like the world outside was a little less crazy; like everything would be alright.

He sat there for a moment, his back to her, hands twitching against his knees as he felt the bed shift. Then her arms were wrapping around his chest, and her chin was resting on his shoulder.

"I'm glad you came," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his ear, sending a shiver straight down his spine. "Are you?" He nodded, swallowing hard. Carol's hand moved down the neck of his shirt, stroking lightly over his chest. He could feel the heat from her chest pressing against his back, and he moaned softly.

"Hands are warm," he said with a soft chuckle, placing his hand over hers through the fabric of his button down shirt. She hummed softly, kissing his neck, before she removed her hand from his shirt and slid out from around him. He was surprised to see her wearing nothing but an oversized button down shirt herself. Her feet were bare, and shadows licked across her creamy white thighs from the flames in the hearth.

She straddled his knees then, standing there, hands on his shoulders as he looked up. He saw the way her lips parted, the way her tongue darted out to wet them, the way her chest heaved as her breath quickened, the way her hardened nipples poked at the shirt she wore. His hands moved out, gently wrapping around her legs, moving up the backs of her thighs and then down again. She sat then, straddling his lap, fingers linked behind his neck. And she kissed him. A slow, sweet kiss that he wanted more of. But she pulled back all too quickly, hands beginning to fumble at the buttons of his shirt. She shifted her hips, and he could feel her heat through his jeans, and the physical effect it had on him didn't go unnoticed to her.

"I don't…don't have anything," he admitted, kissing her chin and then a spot behind her ear that set off a little moan.

"It's ok," she promised. "I can't…it's…after Sophia was born, I couldn't." She swallowed hard, brushing her fingers lightly through his hair. "You won't get me pregnant. There's no chance."

"You sure?" he asked, hands sliding up her thighs as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

"Yes," she said softly, returning to the buttons of his shirt, freeing the last one and sliding it open, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his shoulder, tongue sliding out to taste his skin. He groaned, fingers clenching in her hair as she sucked the skin.

"What about…the girls."

"They're heavy sleepers. They won't wake up. But it's ok." She smiled, untangling herself from him, getting up and going to the door. There was a little hook latch at the top, and she quickly flipped it, securing the door. "Better?" She turned, slowly walking back to him as he leaned back on his elbows. He nodded as she stood before him. Her trembling fingers gave away her anxieties as she started on the buttons of her own shirt, but he moved his hand up, pulling hers away. He brought his hands around her waist, tugging her forward as he spread his legs for her to stand between them. She chewed her lip as his hands worked at the bottom button first, moving up to the next and the next, before her white, cotton panties were visible through the opening in her shirt. A few more buttons exposed her taut stomach. Her skin was flawed, like his. Scars, burn marks, badges of her survival.

He leaned in then, pressing his mouth against her skin. She hissed softly at the feeling of his warm lips against her stomach. And his mouth followed a trail up as he continued unbuttoning her shirt. The last button saw the oversized shirt sliding off of her thin form, leaving her in nothing but her panties. He leaned back a little, taking in the sight of her breasts, small but lovely, nipples hard and begging to be sucked.

Carol moaned at the first contact of his lips against her nipple, tugging and sucking, the most perfect amount of pressure sending a throbbing jolt straight to her core. She squeezed her thighs together, threading her fingers through his hair as he moved to her other breast.

"Daryl," she panted, whimpering as he tugged her down onto his lap. He gently pressed his mouth against her shoulder, kissing the soft, pink scar from her gunshot wound, getting a shiver out of her.

His mouth was on her neck then, sucking, biting, licking, and she was writhing in his lap, making the fact that he was hard and still confined in his jeans the most frustrating aspect of this moment. She kissed him then, smiling against his lips as she gently pushed him back against the mattress. She slid off of him, slid between his legs until she was on her knees on the floor.

"You don't…"

"Shh," she murmured. "Just relax. I'm just going to help you." She popped the button on his pants and slid the zipper down. He groaned at the feeling of the teeth of his zipper vibrating against his dick as they came undone.

"Fuck," he grunted, shifting his hips as Carol hooked her fingers through the belt loops of his pants and began to tug. He let her help him out of his pants. The tent in his underwear pretty much told her everything she needed to know, and she pulled back the band, reaching inside, her warm fingers curling around him, gently tugging. She ran her thumb over the head, collecting a drop of moisture there, massaging it into his sensitive skin.

He sucked a breath in through his teeth, and then he was shifting, moving to stand on shaky legs. She stood too, keeping her eyes on him as he stepped out of his briefs. Her hand was still wrapped around him, stroking him lightly, and it was almost more than he could stand. His heart was thundering against his breastbone, and he felt like the room was spinning. She stood on her tiptoes then, pressing her lips against his, sucking his lower lip between her teeth, biting gently. Then his hand was on her wrist, pulling her hand away from him. He panted, leaning his forehead against hers for a moment, while her hands trailed up his back, over the ridges of his scars, soothing away the memories for a while, replacing them with only thoughts of her hands on his skin, of her body pressed against his own.

He lifted her placing her down on the bed, and he stared down at her as she slid her own panties off, tossing them onto the floor. His stomach twisted into knots, and his dick twitched in his hand as he thought of burying himself inside of her, of feeling her slick heat against him. He tried to stop the thoughts, because he knew it would be over far too soon if he didn't.

She scooted back on the bed, eyes focused on him as he moved toward her. He slid onto the bed, crawling over her as she rested her head against the pillows. Her hands moved up his chest and over his shoulders, curling into his hair as she brought him down for a kiss. Her knees parted, and he settled his hips against hers. She cried out softly as he pressed into her, and she gripped his shoulders until her fingers were white.

"I'm hurtin' you." He started to move, started to roll away, but she shook her head.

"No," she panted, stroking the back of his neck. "It's ok. Please. Please." Her chest shook as she trembled under him, and he pulled back to look into her eyes. He had to see that she wasn't scared, that she was ok, that this was ok. And he saw the smile on her lips fade into a silent cry as he pushed into her, slowly sheathing himself inside of her as her neck arched back and she choked back a cry. His mouth was on hers then, kissing her, soothing her. He gently rocked his hips, letting her adjust, clenching his eyes shut as her walls fluttered and squeezed around him. "God, Daryl." She breathed through it, the pain turning into a sweet ache, and then she couldn't stand it any longer. She had to feel him move.

She moved her hips a little, letting him know what she needed, and he pulled back before pushing in again, burying his face against her neck as he moved inside of her.

They took their time, hands and lips and tongue exploring, crying out against each other, muffling cries against necks and lips and shoulders. His hand slipped between them, stroking her, fingers wet and slick from her wet heat, and she cried out when he brought her over. And it wasn't much longer that he followed, spilling into her, body slick with his sweat and hers, heart racing as he fought to keep himself grounded. This wasn't a dream. This had happened. And not just with anyone. With _her._ Carol. And it had been like nothing he ever imagined. _This_ was the only good reality in this world.

He rolled off of her, panting as he stared up at the ceiling, watching the way the shadows danced across the corners. Her fingers slipped between his, and he turned to her, squeezing her hand a little.

"You ok?" she asked, free hand moving to rest on his chest as she turned toward him.

"Mmm," he murmured, nodding his head. "I'm s'posed to be askin' you that, ain't I?"

"I'm good," she promised, to partially lay atop him, draping herself across his chest so she could kiss him. "We're good, right?"

"Yeah," he promised, a smile sliding over his lips. "We're good."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The cold was what woke Carol, and she seemed to shiver herself awake, eyelids fluttering open to catch a glimpse of Daryl's bare backside as he crouched next to the fireplace, adding a few chunks of wood. She smiled a little, closing her eyes and settling against the pillow, as he stood to move back toward the bed. The moment he lay back down, the heat radiating from his body warmed her all over, and the shivering stopped. His hands moved over her arms that felt like gooseflesh, but it wasn't long before his touch soothed the bumps away, and she felt like she might melt in his arms.

"You awake?" he asked, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck.

"Mmm," she murmured, not even attempting to feign sleep.

"That a yes?"

"Mmmhmm," she murmured, shoulders shaking as she stifled a giggle. His arm hands moved down her belly and over her hip, and she turned in his arms.

"Mornin'," he murmured, chuckling as her eyes fluttered open.

"Morning yourself," she replied, bringing her hand up his chest and over his shoulder, fingers tangling in his hair.

"Sleep ok?"

"Mmm…not really, but that's ok. I had other things on my mind." She grinned, when his hand moved up, brushing over her breast. His thumb rolled over the nipple, and she moaned softly, sighing as he bent to kiss the hollow of her throat.

"Gotta go on a run today," he murmured, nipping at her neck as her hands lazily grazed over his back.

"You have to?" she asked, a hint of a pout in her voice.

"Not unless ya wanna be eatin' the last of them canned beans in the back of the cabinet." Carol made a face.

"And be up all night throwing up? No thanks," she snorted. "How long will you be gone?"

"Couple hours," he murmured, shifting down the bed, kissing down the valley of her breasts, teasing her nipples with his tongue. She gasped, biting her lip and arching her back, pushing her breast further into his mouth.

"You keep doing that, I'm not letting you out of this bed," she said with a grin, closing her eyes as he began to move lower. She sucked in a sharp breath, tensing up. "What…"

"You don't want me to?"

"No…I mean, it's not that I don't. I just…you don't…you don't have to."

"Want to," he murmured, sliding his tongue around her belly button, keeping his eyes on hers the whole time. She shivered, taking a deep, gasping breath. He started to move lower, shrugging himself under the covers. Then she tapped on his shoulder. He looked up at her.

"You don't…we shouldn't right now. The girls will be up soon." Daryl nodded slowly then, resting his chin on her stomach, gently stroking her thighs.

"Alright," he said with a little smile. Carol crinkled her nose at him, and he cocked his head a little.

"Nobody's ever done this for you before?" She looked away then, a blush burning her cheeks. "Alright." He kissed her stomach and moved back up to lay beside her, propping himself up on his elbow. "You let me know when you're ready."

"Now who's the bold one?" she asked with a smile, pushing his hair out of his face. "Thank you." She kissed his forehead and then his nose and then his mouth. She opened up to him, sighing contentedly as he relaxed against her, her hips cradling his, and they took their time enjoying those kisses until the first morning cry from Judith pulled them back to reality.

...

"Can we?" Mika begged.

"Yeah, can we?" Lizzie asked with wide eyes. "It's just outside." Carol eyed Lizzie and Mika for a few moments, shoulders slumping as she found herself softening to their plight.

"I don't want you wandering from the house, do you girls hear me?" Carol insisted. "And play quietly. If you don't, we'll have a whole herd of walkers on our doorstep by dinnertime."

"Yes, ma'am," Lizzie said with a nod, grabbing Mika's hand. "Come on, before she changes her mind." The girls scrambled to the coat hooks to grab their scarves and gloves and coats, and Carol shook her head, sighing as the girls hurried outside to play in the snow.

Carol shook her head, feeling the silence of the house settle against her. Daryl was up in the attic keeping watch, which made her feel a little better about the girls going outside. It was good for them to get a little fresh air after being cooped up inside for months.

Daryl had gone out earlier for supplies, and when he'd come back, he'd said he hadn't seen any walkers within two miles of the place, so that was comforting, at least. She knew the girls would keep an eye out, but it still made her nervous nevertheless.

Carol headed upstairs to pick up a little, moving past the girls' room and checking on Judith, who was sleeping in her crib. She'd kicked her blanket off, so Carol fixed that for her before moving to make the girls' beds. Mika's was an easy fix. She was a pretty sound sleeper. Lizzie tossed and turned in her sleep.

Carol pulled back Lizzie's pillow to set it aside, and that was when the girl's diary spilled out on the floor. She was just going to pick it up and put it back, when something caught her eye. Scribbled like a toddler's coloring session, the pages were worn and messy. Carol slowly sat down on Lizzie's bed, peeking up at the doorframe before looking back down at the book.

She turned the pages, one by one, seeing the scribbles, red crayon, black crayon. There were no words until about the twentieth page.

 _They say I'm confused. They look at me like I'm crazy. But maybe they're the crazy ones._

Carol felt a chill run up her spine.

 _I don't remember my mom. I can't remember her face or the way she sounded when she talked. I remember the perfume she used to wear, and the way she used to hug me. Mika doesn't remember anything about her. And she says she's forgetting about Dad. She says she wants Carol to be our mom, but I don't think Carol wants that._

Carol felt her lower lip tremble, as she turned the page.

 _I keep having these bad dreams. I dream about bad places. Bad people. And in my dreams, the people are a lot scarier than the walkers. I don't think walkers are scary. I think they're supposed to be here, and we're not. They're stronger than us. It's why there's so many of them and not a lot of us._

 _I like living with Carol and Daryl. They're nice. It kind of feels like we're a family. But sometimes I think I scare them, like I'm a monster. Like they're afraid of me like they're afraid of the walkers. Maybe they're afraid of being like them. We're all gonna die. And we're all gonna turn._

Carol felt a tear slip down her cheek, as she covered her mouth with her hand.

 _I'll show them. All they have to do is see what I see. And then they won't be so scared._

Carol's hands shook, and the book fell from her lap. She stood quickly.

"Daryl!" she called. In moments, she could hear his footsteps overhead, and then he was descending the steps.

"What's wrong?" he asked, eyes narrowing, coming closer to see her shaking the way she was. "Hey, what's wrong?" His hand ghosted over her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, encouraging her to talk to him.

"I…the girls. Daryl, something…something's going to happen." Her eyes were wide, terrified, and Daryl felt his stomach tighten.

"Where are they?"

"Outside."

"C'mon." He grabbed her hand and lead her down the stairs, just as the front door burst open. Mika came in with tear-stained cheeks, panting and red-faced.

"Mika! Where's your sister?"

"She took off," Mika panted out. "She wanted me to come with her, but I wouldn't, and then she just started running."

"Where'd she go?" Daryl asked, kneeling down to Mika's level, as the girl wiped at her eyes and nose. "Mika! Where'd your sister go?" Mika moved to the door and pointed in the direction, out back past the barn.

"Alright. You stay here. I'll find her," Daryl promised, standing up, grabbing his coat off the hook.

"I'm going with you," Carol insisted. "Mika? You go upstairs with Judith. You watch her, ok? You make sure she's ok."

"Y-yes, ma'am," Mika sniffled. Carol grabbed for her coat and slid it on, pocketing the house keys in the process. Daryl grabbed a gun and his crossbow from the closet, handing the rifle to Carol. Mika stood frozen in place.

"Mika!" Carol snapped. "Go upstairs. You have to go." Mika jumped, blinking rapidly for a moment.

"She's ok, isn't she? She's…she's been ok. She's been better. She's gonna be ok, right?"

"We'll find her," Daryl insisted. "Go on, Mika." Mika turned then and moved up the stairs, fingers gripping the rail for dear life. Carol turned to Daryl, shaking her head.

"The things she wrote, Daryl…she wants us to understand how she sees things. I think she's going after a walker."

"We ain't got no time to waste standin' here, then. Let's go." Carol nodded, following him out of the house, locking the door securely behind them.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Warning: This chapter includes gun violence with children. Also a character death.

"Mika, it's ok, sweetheart," Carol murmured, pressing her hand against the bedroom door. The child's choked sobs could be heard all through the house. Daryl stood on the landing with baby Judith in his arms.

"Gotta give her some time."

"Daryl, I don't want to leave her alone."

"She ain't comin' out. You gotta trust she'll be ok."

...

 _Carol's lungs felt like they were on fire as she ran with Daryl in the direction Mika had pointed. Her fingers twitched against the hilt of the knife as she ran. Daryl was a few strides ahead of her, but she was keeping up just fine, despite the fact that her legs ached._

 _Thanks to the melting snow on the ground, Lizzie's footprints were easy to find, and Carol noticed that the tracks seemed to get closer together, indicating that Lizzie had slowed down. It couldn't be much longer._

 _Daryl slowed then, and Carol stumbled, skidding to a halt next to him. She followed his gaze to two different sets of tracks that seemed to overlap. One was definitely Lizzie's. The other set was larger, and judging by the spacing, much slower and limping._

 _"Walker," Carol whispered, feeling her throat tighten. "Daryl."_

 _..._

Carol sunk down onto the floor, and Daryl sighed, giving her a little nod and moving up the steps before joining her on the hallway floor next to the girls' bedroom.

"Sophia was my daughter," Carol said softly. "I loved her more than…more than anything in this world. And she wasn't prepared. She didn't know how to take care of herself. It's why I tried to teach you girls. I tried to teach you, so the same thing wouldn't happen to you."

...

 _"C'mon." They started off again, and Carol was ahead of him this time, driven by pure fear, her heart pumping wildly in her chest._

 _Up ahead, Carol could see something. It was a tall figure with arms outstretched, stumbling through the snow. And then there was Lizzie, running around in front of it like she was playing. Carol gripped Daryl's hand then, eyes flashing to his and then back to the scene ahead._

 _"Get ready," he warned. She nodded, and they rushed toward Lizzie._

 _"Get away!" Carol screamed. "Lizzie!" Lizzie looked up, eyes flashing wild as she ducked from the walker's clutches, just as it almost grabbed her. She laughed then, a child playing with a friend. Carol's stomach turned, and her fear spurred her on. She got there first, grabbing Lizzie and pulling her back. "Get away!" Carol shouted, as Lizzie let out a scream._

 _..._

"She was just a little older than you, Mika. You remind me of her, sometimes." She sighed heavily, lowering her head a little, as the child's cries began to fade into choked gasps for air. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm sorry for what happened. It shouldn't have been like that. It shouldn't have been." Mika was silent then, save for a few leftover whimpers.

Daryl reached for Carol's hand, wrapping his fingers around hers.

"She's just gonna need time. She's in shock."

...

 _"No! Stop!" Carol raised her knife in the air, as Daryl came up with his crossbow raised. "Stop!" The walker lunged for Carol, and she ducked out of the way. It stumbled to the ground, clawing at rocks and snow, trying to pull itself up. Carol felt something in her back then, and when she saw the look on Daryl's face, she knew what it was. "Stop it! Stop!" Carol turned slowly to find Lizzie with a gun in her hand._

 _"Lizzie…"_

 _"Don't kill him! He's my friend."_

 _"Lizzie!" Carol warned, but Lizzie shook her head, cocking the gun._

 _"No! You don't understand!"_

 _"Put the gun down, Lizzie," Daryl warned, pushing is boot into the walker's back, keeping it pinned to the ground, making certain it couldn't grab his leg and get control of the situation._

 _"No!" she sobbed, shaking her head, taking a few steps back but moving. "I understand them. I hear them."_

 _"Lizzie, you…you need to put the gun down, ok, sweetheart?" Carol murmured. "Please."_

 _"If you kill him, I'll kill you."_

 _..._

"Mika? Can I come in?" She gently tapped on the door. "Please, sweetheart. I want to make sure you're alright."

She stood at the door now, forehead leaning against it.

"M'gonna take Judith down, give her a bottle," Daryl offered.

"Ok," Carol murmured.

"Call for me if ya need somethin'." He leaned in, and she turned her head to catch a soft kiss. She nodded at him, and he disappeared down the stairs with the baby.

"Mika, it's me," she called again. "Please." To her surprise, the latch on the door turned, and the door opened. She looked down at Mika's tear-stained cheeks. "Can I come in?" Mika moved out of the way, lowering her head and walking over to sit on the bed. Carol followed after her and sat down beside her.

"You can talk to me, Mika."

...

 _"Lizzie, they're not people!" Carol begged._

 _"Stop," Daryl murmured, putting his hand up. Carol didn't take her eyes off of Lizzie, but the sound of Daryl's voice was enough to tell her that he was terrified Lizzie was going to pull that trigger. And then Carol's eyes lowered to Lizzie's wrist. Blood dripped down it and onto the snow below, and Carol knew then._

 _"Lizzie," Carol said softly. "We'll let it go. But we want you to come home with us."_

 _"You'll kill it. You're afraid of them. And you're afraid of me." Lizzie's hands shook as the tears flooded her eyes._

 _"No," Carol murmured. "I understand. I understand now."_

 _"No you don't," Lizzie sniffled._

 _"I do. You're confused, and that's ok. We can talk about it."_

 _"No," Lizzie choked out, shaking her head. "You're too late." She held her hand up, revealing the bite on her forearm. Carol felt like the wind had been knocked out of her, and she bit her lip to keep it from trembling. "Let him go." Lizzie looked to Daryl. "Let him go. He won't hurt you."_

 _"You put yer gun down, I'll let him go. You hand it over, Lizzie. Now."_

 _"Let him go!" Lizzie yelled. Daryl held steady, and the walker struggled under his weight._

 _..._

Mika began to cry again, burying her face against Carol's chest, as Carol hugged her close. Carol rocked her back and forth gently, stroking her back, completely tossing aside her vow to not coddle her. This child had no one now, and she needed someone.

"It's ok."

"It's my fault," Mika sobbed. "It's my fault."

"Hey," Carol whispered. "Shh."

"At the hunting cabin when you got attacked," Mika murmured, "I knew the walker was there. Lizzie made me promise not to say anything. She…thought they were like animals. That it wasn't their fault they were like that." She shook her head, and Carol gently brushed Mika's tears away with her thumbs. "She made me promise not to tell anybody it was there. Made me promise not to kill it. She said she wouldn't forgive me. And I didn't tell, and you almost got bit!"

"Mika, it's ok. I'm not mad."

 _..._

 _The walker gnashed its teeth, and Daryl struggled to keep it pinned. Lizzie shook her head, looking from him to the walker and then to Carol._

 _"You're supposed to understand," Lizzie murmured. "But you'll see. You'll see when I come back."_

 _"Lizzie it's ok," Carol sobbed. "Let's go home. Let us take you home."_

 _"Not until you see!" Lizzie demanded. Just then, the walker reached out, managing to grab hold of Carol's boot. Carol let out a cry, and Daryl, without even hesitating, put a bolt through its head. "No! No! You killed him!" Her hand shook, and Daryl prepared to jump in front of Carol, but before either of them could make a move, a shot rang out, and Lizzie went flying backward, lying still in the show as blood formed a halo around her head._

 _Carol cried out, gasping for breath as she turned to see Mika standing there with a gun in her trembling hands, smoke steaming off the barrel before she let it drop into the snow._

 _..._

"I should have told," Mika whimpered. "Lizzie's always been messed up. I should've told."

"You can't blame yourself. Lizzie was sick, and that wasn't your fault. It's just the way things are, and she…she's in a better place now."

"She's dead," Mika sobbed. "She's dead, and I killed her."


	11. Chapter 11

Epilogue

Mika placed one single flower on the top of the dirt mound. Daryl had spent hours breaking up the frozen earth to dig a grave just deep enough for Lizzie's body. Mika said nothing, only bent to place the flower and then stood, straightening to stand between Carol and Daryl.

"It's gonna be ok, sweetheart," Carol said gently, giving Mika's back a little rub.

"You can't know that," Mika said somberly. "We're all gonna die."

"Hey," Carol murmured, handing Judith to Daryl and kneeling on the ground in front of Mika. "This world is different. It's dark. But we're still here, aren't we? We fight. It's what we do. It's how we survive."

"My mom used to talk about heaven and hell, about how good people go to heaven and bad people go to hell. Where is Lizzie?" Carol sighed softly, brushing a few stray tears from the girl's cheek.

"Lizzie was sick. She didn't understand the world the way you do. She couldn't help the way she was. She was…it was already there. It was something inside of her that she couldn't control. Do you understand?"

"Will I go to hell?" Mika asked softly. "I killed her. I'm bad, right?"

"No, you're not bad, honey," Carol soothed, pulling the girl into a hug. "You're not bad, do you understand?" The little girl's tears began to fall again, and Carol squeezed her tight. It wasn't the time to tell her to toughen up, to tell her to not be weak. This little girl was far from weak. She'd gone through something too horrifying to imagine, and she was going to be ok. It would take time, but she'd be ok.

"C'mon, Jude," Daryl murmured, rubbing a sleepy Judith's back. He gently placed his hand on Carol's shoulder. "You need anything?

"We're ok," she promised. "Take her on back. We'll be home soon." She curled her fingers around his, giving him an encouraging smile before he turned and walked away with the baby. Carol returned her attention to the grieving child and pulled back, wiping Mika's hair back. "You want to go for a walk?"

"A walk?"

"Mmm. When I was a little girl, my mother used to take me on long walks when I was upset. Sometimes we'd talk, sometimes we'd just walk, and that was ok, too."

"Ok," Mika murmured softly. "Let's walk." Carol smiled, kissing Mika's forehead and standing, taking the girl's hand in her own. "Do we have to talk?"

"Not if you don't want to."

"Can…can we talk about Lizzie sometime?"

"We can talk about whatever you want, whenever you want, I promise."

"Good," Mika said with a sad smile, tightening her grip on Carol's hand. And then they walked away in silence.

...

 _A year later_

"Dada! Ook, da!" Judith Grimes waved her chubby arm in the air, pointing toward the porch, where Carol was sitting. Mika was sitting Indian-style on the porch behind her, patiently waiting as Carol worked her hair into a pretty French braid.

"Told ya I ain't yer Dada, Jude," Daryl muttered, lifting the toddler up into the air and blowing raspberries on her stomach, "but if it makes ya feel better, you can keep on callin' me that, I guess." It had been over a year since the prison fell, and though Daryl had tried to look for survivors, there had been none, and for the past year, Carol, Daryl, Mika and Judith had been living as a family under one roof.

Mika was taller now, growing into a slender young lady. She liked to hunt with Daryl, and she was learning how to use the crossbow, but she liked helping in the kitchen and the garden just as much. Spending time with these two whom she considered to be her parents was everything for her.

She'd struggled, really struggled with what had happened with Lizzie, but it had been something only time and talking it through could help with. She still woke with terrible dreams, but she understood she'd done the only thing she could do. Lizzie was dead anyway, the moment that walker had bit her.

"She called Carol 'mama' yesterday," Mika said with a grin.

"Who's been teachin' her that?"

"Not me, I swear!" Carol insisted, giving a little tug on Mika's hair. The girl laughed, yelping and scrunching her nose. Daryl snorted and shook his head, moving to the porch to sit, placing Judith on his knee.

"You goin' out huntin' with me tomorrow?" Daryl asked, nudging Mika's shoulder.

"Nope," Mika and Carol replied in unison. Daryl furrowed his brows.

"Guess I can go alone."

"Nope again," Carol replied. " _We're_ going hunting, and Mika's babysitting."

"You sure 'bout that?" Daryl asked. "You ain't been out in a while."

"Exactly. I need the practice," Carol replied, giving him a tap on the top of the head. "Besides, it'll give us a little time to be alone together." At Mika's protesting groan, Daryl snickered, and Carol gave the girl a tap on the shoulder. "All done, sweetie. Can you take Judith inside?"

"Yes, ma'am," Mika said quickly, standing and pulling her surrogate sister into her arms. "C'mon, Jude. I think they're gonna kiss again." She made a face, and Judith made a kissing noise. Daryl shook his head, tugging Carol down off her chair and into his lap. She yelped, laughing and wrapping an arm around his neck.

"Think the girl's right," he muttered, before planting a loving kiss to Carol's mouth. She chuckled softly, snaking her other arm around his neck, sighing contentedly.

"Just the two of us tomorrow, huh?" Daryl murmured, stroking her back. "Like that idea."

"You know that deer blind you built out there? I snuck out there and put some pillows and blankets in it. Made it nice and cozy. Maybe we'll have a nap out there…or something." She winked at him.

"Knew I loved you for a reason," he smirked, kissing her again. She smiled against his mouth before kissing along his jaw and gently nipping on his ear.

The past year had been rough. They'd gone through so much. Judith had nearly died from fever, but due in part to some slightly outdated medication, she'd made a recovery, and she'd been just fine ever since. This new world was quiet when the walkers weren't close. It could be peaceful. But it was still dangerous. Even the sniffles could turn into something terrible. Every day was a risk, but they fought through the hardships. They'd grown closer helping Mika cope with Lizzie's death. Helping Mika cope with what she'd done had somehow helped Carol to fully heal and make peace with not just what had happened at the prison but with losing Sophia as well. Like it had been said before, back when the world was different, time would heal all wounds. And Carol was beginning to feel the truth in that.

"See, here I thought you loved me for my astounding personality," Carol teased, kissing him lovingly as he gave her ass a little tap.

"Want me to make a list of everything I love about you, 'cause I will."

"Oh, instead of telling me, why don't you just show me?"

"Now? You wanna go?" he asked, nodding toward the house. Carol laughed, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Tonight, Pookie. Think you can hang in there for a little while longer?"

"Nope," he muttered, burying his face against her neck and sucking hungrily. She squealed and quickly shimmied off of his lap. She started off toward the barn, and he was in full pursuit right behind her. She laughed then, taking off in a full sprint, before he caught her around the middle, tugging her back against the side of the barn, out of sight from little eyes.

"What am I going to do with you, Daryl Dixon?" she asked, breathless as her face flushed pink from happiness.

"Dunno, but a kiss'll do for a start," he replied, grinning, eyebrows rising up in that teasing way she'd fallen in love with since their relationship had slipped into extremely comfortable territory.

"I think I can manage that," she whispered, winding her arms around his neck and gifting him with a loving kiss, a promise that he had her heart, and no matter what happened tomorrow, that would never change.

The End


End file.
